The Client
by stayalittlewhile
Summary: John comes home from grocery shopping to find a mysterious man in his flat. Post-Reichenbach, Johnlock if you squint.


_Disclaimer: I don't own anything Sherlock related. _

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John walked up the stairs to 221B, three grocery bags in one hand and his old cane in the other. He struggled to grab the keys from inside his pocket. He let the plastic bags slide down and fall to his elbow before leaning on his cane and navigating the bagged arm to push the key into the lock. With a click, the door unlocked and John sighed with relief. He turned the doorknob and used his elbow to push open the door. He stopped dead in his tracks to see a young man standing near the window, looking out.

The mysterious intruder quickly looked back at John, "Uh. S-sorry," the man stuttered, "the lady downstairs let me in, she said you'd be home soon. You're John Watson, correct?" He spoke with a Scottish accent.

John stood there and looked around awkwardly waiting for him to say something else, maybe a name or something. The man looked genuinely nervous and wide eyed, as if he'd been caught in the middle of committing a crime. He adjusted the bottom of his plaid shirt, drawing John's attention to his outfit. It consisted of skinny jeans, black Converse, and a messenger bag draped across his shoulders and chest. His eyes were covered by dark blue framed glasses and his hair was slicked back. _Uni,_ John thought but he looked a bit old to be in college still.

"Did you leave a message for me or anything?" John asked as he placed the bags on the closest table.

"No, I'm sorry, I probably should have," the man rubbed his thighs and walked towards John, a tan arm extended in front of him, "Well it's a pleasure to meet you!" He smiled at John, something that made John's heart flutter. It was a weird feeling for John, something was nagging at John but he didn't know exactly where to pinpoint it.

John hesitantly took the man's hand in his, "Well it's nice to have a client, business hasn't been exactly booming," John said with a light chuckle, "Do you mind if you took care of these?" John gestured towards the groceries on the counter.

"Oh! Yes, of course. Don't mind me, I'll be here." The stranger looked around where he stood, walking around a bit in place before sitting in Sherlock's chair. Sherlock's chair, the one that was collecting dust. The chair that hadn't been sat in for almost three years. John stopped to stare at the stranger, a part of him wanted to ask him to sit on the couch.

He turned away to continue packing the groceries away. Pulling the milk out of the bag, John walked towards the fridge but waited and placed the milk on the counter, "Would you like a cuppa?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, though," the man said politely.

John shrugged and grabbed the kettle and refilled it with water before placing it on the stove, "Where are you coming from, then? You don't sound like you're from around here," John asked, putting the stove on under the kettle.

The man laughed, "Closer than you think." John tensed ever so slightly and looked back at the man, furrowing his eyebrows. "I lived in Paisley for most of my life before I moved here to London three years ago," he quickly added from seeing John's obvious confusion at his statement.

_Three years._

The anniversary was quickly approaching. John's stomach churned and he pushed the thoughts away, deciding that right now wasn't the best time to reminisce considering there was a possible client in his flat. Did the man know Sherlock and he worked together? Probably since Sherlock's fame swelled near the end. Poor man had to settle for just John now. It wasn't going to well without Sherlock; he drew in the customer's attention with his fast deductions and clever techniques. John did eventually solve the case, but he did it at his own pace. A pace that would've made Sherlock roll his eyes. John could almost hear Sherlock groaning, "_Bored!" _or flopping himself down onto the couch to sulk.

John took a furtive glance towards the man sitting in the chair. The man sat uncomfortably in Sherlock's chair, looking around the flat innocently. John didn't even know his name. Before he could bring it up again, the kettle let out a high pitched scream. John quickly walked over to the stove and shut it off. John opened the cabinet and grabbed the only mug that he'd been using for the past two years. Sherlock's mug. Dealing with the mug wasn't unusual for John, for every time he made tea, he also made one for Sherlock. But, at first, it didn't feel right to use his mug; it was Sherlock's mug, after all. But once Sherlock's presence started to disappear throughout the flat, John got desperate to have some part of him around. Such a small object caused John to stop whatever he was doing. He would just stop and hold the mug, rolling it around in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the handle and over the sides. John sighed and placed the mug down on the counter and filled it with hot water and a tea bag. He poured in the milk and placed it back into the fridge. Grabbing the mug with his left hand, he took his cane in the other and wobbled to the doorway of the kitchen.

He leaned against the wall and said with the friendliest smile he could muster, "So, what can I do for you?"

Suddenly the man chuckled and began to stand up. John looked across the room at the desk that held his gun; there was no way he would get past the man in time.

The man smiled and shook his head at John, "Oh John, you've never been the observant kind." The man's accent was completely gone and its place was taken by a familiar baritone voice. John's lips parted and he gripped the mug so tight that his knuckles became a shade of white.

"What? Who are you?" John demanded, standing his ground.

The man shook his head again and nodded towards the front door. John looked over at the door cautiously and let the mug slip out of his hands, not even watching it shatter into a million pieces. John quickly sucked in air and he suddenly felt weak. The stranger wasn't motioning at the door but rather the items on the hooks next to the door. On one hook was Sherlock's trench coat and the other supported a familiar blue scarf.

"Where did you get those?" John barely whispered.

"Come on, John!" the stranger exclaimed. John continued to stare blankly at the man. The stranger threw his hands up and groaned. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true," said the deep voice.

"No," John shook his head, "Nope." The man in front of him tilted his head and gave John a forgiving look through the lenses of his glasses. "Y-you-," John looked down at the ground and his chin quivered, "You BLOODY IDIOT!"

John let go of his cane and took one step towards the man, throwing up his fist and hitting him square in jaw. The man stumbled backwards, almost losing his balance in the process. He stood up straight and rubbed his cheek; his glasses were askew. John stood there panting with both fists at his sides. He watched the man straighten up and bit back every temptation he had to punch him again.

"I guess I deserved that." Sherlock said as he readjusted his glasses.

John scoffed, "No shit, Sherlock!" Silence flooded the flat. John felt a tear roll down his cheek. John held his breath and kept his eyes on the floor. A couple more tears ran down his face but John didn't move. Sherlock stared at John as the reality of how the three years affected him. Obvious weight loss. 10, maybe 14 pounds. Bags under his eyes. Deeper and darker than before. Sherlock glanced towards the shattered mess on the ground. Sherlock's mug, not John's. His cane lay on the floor. Limp returned. Microscope sits on the table in the kitchen and his blue robe is draped over John's chair. John couldn't throw out Sherlock's things. Sherlock looked back at his crying flatmate in front of him.

"John, I am _so_ sorry," Sherlock muttered through his teeth, disgusted with himself. John closed his eyes and cringed at Sherlock's words.

"John, please," Sherlock took a step towards John until he was only a touch away. John quickly wiped his eyes with his fingers and slowly looked up to catch Sherlock's gaze. Sherlock had his eyebrows furrowed and he looked paler than before. John opened his mouth to talk but only pursed his lips and looked at the pocket on Sherlock's plaid shirt. Suddenly, Sherlock grabbed John by the sleeves of his jacket. One of his long arms wrapped around John's back and the other at the nape of his neck. John felt Sherlock's cheek resting against his hair.

"Forgive me," Sherlock mumbled into John's hair.

"I'm fine, Sherlock," John said into Sherlock's chest.

"No need to lie, John," Sherlock rubbed his thumb over the back of John's neck, "I'm not _fine_ either."

That's all John needed to hear before he took Sherlock in a returning embrace. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's slender waist and clutched on to him as if he was going to leave again. John closed his eyes and nuzzled into Sherlock's neck. The only sound was their in sync breathing, slow and steady.

After a bit, John wriggled out of Sherlock's arms and patted his clothes down, "Enough of that, you have some business to take care of." Sherlock raised his eyebrows and John just chuckled.

"What?" Sherlock demanded.

"Go take a shower or something, you look like someone from _Grease_," John pointed to Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock glared at John, "It was necessary that no one recognized m-"

"Wait, wait," John interrupted as he stood back and looked Sherlock up and down. The sight of his outfit made John roar with laughter. "Oh, don't forget to run down to Starbucks afterwards," John said as he doubled over in laughter. Sherlock tried his hardest to keep a straight face but the sight of John so happy made Sherlock's stomach do a flip. He slowly gave in and started to laugh with John.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked with a smile obvious in his voice.

John lightly laughed and looked up at Sherlock with a wide grin, "Bit not good, yeah."

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So yep, that was my first fanfiction that I've published on this account. It's a bit short, but I'm currently working on a longer one. I hope you liked it and reviews are appreciated.  
xx


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